


At Her Command

by afterandalasia



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Community: disney_kink, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Multi, Sexual Slavery, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jasmine has grown up a spoiled brat, who always gets what she wants. When she decides that she wants a certain street rat for her slave,  Jafar does not have the strength to turn her down.</p><p>Dub-con, but no non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Her Command

There was only one thing her father had not given her, Jafar discovers not long after his union with his new bride. Well, two, but he could not very well give to her the power to win in her arguments with Jafar. That thing had been freedom, the ability to go out beyond the fair walls of the palace.  
  
In everything else, he echoes her father. In fact, he is if anything freer with his gifts. Fine silk or cotton clothes to gown herself in, beautiful gold jewellery inlaid with diamonds and rubies that set off her skin, so heavy that at times she can barely move her wrists for the weight upon them. Sweet perfumes from the orient, ittar from India that wreathed her in the sweet scent of rose, saffron, jasmine -- this amused her the most -- or lotus. They warmed with her body, clung seductively to her skin. Gifts and trifles: mechanical birds, plated with gold and capable of chirping little songs; carved ivory figurines from the dark, unknown lands to the south; sweet-smelling flowers replaced as soon as they even begin to wilt in the intense Arabian heat.  
  
In the absence of friends, indolence will do, and Jasmine warms quickly to the increased luxury which her life affords her. Jafar finds it amusing to watch her, to see how easily she is disarmed, like a dragon lying upon its bed of gold. And should her sweet, youthful face draw towards anger, all that he needs to do is press the literal or figurative sweetmeats, covered in gold foil, to her lips and it will dissipate.  
  
But it does not take him long to learn of the one thing that her father would never give her. The world beyond, ugly and dusty and away from the luxury of the palace; Jafar's lip curls at the thought of leaving his gilded rooms, but if it will win over his bride, he decides it may be worth the risk.  
  
Wearily, he orders litters to bear them into the city. Jasmine is delighted; her eyes light up, she smiles, and kisses him sweetly and repeatedly and falsely, and it is close enough. Swathed in deep blue silk -- ah, the rarity of that colour, and how good it looks on her -- she is bourne up, veil lifted to cover her beautiful face from the outside world despite the cotton-silk shades that will hide them from the common people. Jafar watches her reaction with a smirk, tracing the outlines of her face through her veil, knowing that he and only he may look upon her.  
  
She peers close to the edge of the litter as they are paraded through the streets, a little smirk upon her lips. The people of the city bow and scrape as the litter approaches, or back away into the shadows, or run indoors. Ah, what it is to cause fear.  
  
Then something catches Jasmine's eye. He can tell from the tilt of her head, the pursing of her lips. Then her hand falls upon his arm and she looks round, seduction in his eyes. "Husband, stop the litter."  
  
"What is it, my golden one?" he whispers, running his long fingers beneath her chin. They slip beneath her veil, but her skin is silk-soft as well. "Is there something that you desire?"  
  
Perhaps the sweet, ripe fruit on one of the stalls, or the fish with their rainbow scales. It will please her for a moment, little more, but nothing in this place will cost more than a coin or two. A sharp rap on the wood brings the litter to a halt; whispers spread around the people, a few fearful glance.  
  
"Him."  
  
The answer is simple, illustrated with an outstretched arm that almost parts the curtains around them. Jafar follows the line of Jasmine's gaze, past the pretty sapphires that sparkle on her fingertips, to the boy sitting on the roof of one of the low buildings. Unlike the others, he is looking at the procession with interest, curiosity, as he chews bread in that disgusting way which means one can see what it is being masticated. A frown crosses the new sultan's lips.  
  
"Now now, my pet. We have servants enough at the palace. That... street rat... can hardly be of interest to you."  
  
She pouts, her lower lip protruding most adorably and glistening most desirably. She reaches up to twirl one finger in his beard, tugging just slightly, and his resolve weakens as his manhood hardens.  
  
"He's such a pretty street rat," she says. "Wouldn't he look wonderful all dressed up for show?"  
  
Jafar considers for a moment, but Jasmine is tip-toeing her fingers down his chest and sliding them beneath his waistband. Such a clever girl.  
  
He gives a sigh. "Very well then. I'll instruct the guards to fetch him later."  
  
Her hand closes around him, gently at first, waves of her perfume rising as she leans in to kiss him through her veil. Her tongue is soft and damp through the silk as she licks his cheek, then he pulls away her veil and kisses her hotly on the mouth. Her hand, now slick with his precum, pumps him steadily as he slides his own fingers beneath her clothes, against her pale skin, and she moans like a whore as his fingers fill her. She lets his tongue fill her mouth as his fingers toy with her, and licks her hand clean after he ejaculates upon it. The mere sight of such makes him desire her afresh, and they are barely returned to the palace before he is ready to take her.  
  
Jasmine has quite the appetite for sex, Jafar has discovered, and being both female and rather younger than he it has made for a surprising mismatch. He knows that sometimes she is forced to use her own hands to please herself, ironic considering that watching her do so will bring him to hardness most predictably. Often he will fuck her afterwards in any case, when she is still wet and hot and he can make her come again with surprising ease.  
  
This time, still glowing with the pleasure of her latest acquisition, she lets him take her from behind, her cunt slick with anticipation, his hands on her breasts or her hips. She slides one hand down to form a 'v' above his cock, and he knows that it is also a way of pleasing herself, but it makes her buck and thrust beneath him so that they are both glistening with sweat and their own fluids by the time that they orgasm.  
  
Afterwards they lie naked on the bed in the warm summer air, and Jafar finally thinks to send his message to the guards to bring in the street rat from the market. And Jasmine smirks and kisses him again, then rises to bathe and wash her skin clean. He returns to his chambers, and bathes as well, and then attends lackadaisically to the matters of the city. A pity that it must be done, but it is a small price to pay for the ownership of Agrabah, and though he does not treat the people kindly he will not grind them to nothing. It does not do to destroy one's own kingdom, after all.  
  
The street rat is bought in fighting and swearing. Jafar finds this amusing, laughs in the boy's face and tells him that he can stop his wriggling: he is to be a servant at the palace now. The boy's face contorts to a sneer, and he says he will do no such thing, but Jafar says that if he will not be a servant, he will be a slave, and orders him to be taken away and cleaned up immediately.  
  
And so the boy is washed, oiled, scented and dressed up when he is presented to Jasmine that evening. She squeals with delight and throws her arms around Jafar, then bounds over to the sullen, furious boy and looks at him with delight in her eyes. She waves the guards away; Jafar almost goes to stop them but the boy does not fight as he is dropped, and once they are removed from the room Jasmine removes the veil from her face.  
  
Her beauty glows forth, her eyes rimmed in kohl, lips painted red, hair in shining black waves framing her face. She raises one hand as if to touch the boy's cheek, and he flinches away, but is looking more uncertain than outright mutinous now.  
  
Jasmine pouts again, and he looks more curious. "Well, that's not a very nice way to behave," she announces, and steps back to survey him haughtily. "I just wanted to see if you feel as nice as you look."  
  
She rarely comments on Jafar's appearance, though when she does it is usually vaguely complimentary. Jafar wonders whether she considers the boy attractive; looking critically, he can see the sun-browned skin, the hardened muscles, thick black hair and piercing eyes. Perhaps he could be considered good-looking, in the rough way of the commoners. Jasmine reaches to put one finger on his chin again, and this time he does not resist as she runs it down his throat, just flicking the collar of his tunic before putting her nail to her mouth and nibbling on it slightly.  
  
"Why have you bought me here?" the boy asks, abruptly, and Jafar is about to step forward and strike him for his insolence when Jasmine gives a peal of laughter.  
  
"Because you are very handsome," she replies, once her laughter has subsided. Her eyes are burning, and Jafar wonders whether she is thinking of their bed again. "And I want you to serve me."  
  
"Me?" the boy splutters. "But I'm just... a street rat! Why would you want me?"  
  
"Don't question my choices." The words come out cold and crisp, and the boy falls silent again, a mistrustful look on his face. "I want you to serve me my food, and carry things for me, and take messages. And I want you to pleasure me."  
  
His eyes go wide, though neither her expression nor her tone have changed as she regards him. Even Jafar cannot suppress a hiss of indrawn breath at her statement, and he steps forward to put his hand on the small of her back. "Now now, my flower. Do you really mean such?"  
  
Jasmine turns imperious brown eyes on him. There is no hint of uncertainty there, though there is far beneath the flickering flame of greed. "Of course. I always mean what I want."  
  
Slowly, with a worried laugh, Jafar rubs circles on her back. "I'm not sure that..."  
  
"I want him to please me, at my bidding," she says, curtly, cutting him off. Then her tone grows a little more playful, a smirk finding her lips. "Though if you so desire, you can watch as he does so. I know that you like it when I please myself. Can it not be better with two?"  
  
For a moment he hesitates. He does not wish to share his princess, his pet, with anyone... but she seems quite taken with the boy. For now, at least. And it is true that to see her with her hand between her thighs is quite wonderous; he wonders what it might be like to watch another man fuck her. Indulgently, he says: "Very well."  
  
She smiles wickedly, and kisses him, then turns back to the boy who has watched the whole exchange open-mouthed and astonished. "Come, I want to see how good you are. What is your name?"  
  
"A-aladdin," he stammers. Most likely he has never seen any woman so beautiful as Jasmine, unless the quality of whores in Agrabah has most significantly improved since Jafar saw them last. Jasmine takes him by the hand and pulls him away towards her chambers, and once they are gone from the room Jafar laughs, long and loud and hearty, at what his wife has become. Only then, shaking his head and feeling himself grow aroused at the mere thought, does he follow to their chambers.  
  
Jasmine already stands naked before her pillowed bed, her breasts high and round with dark nipples, her slender waist and pale thighs exposed to the air. The boy is undressing clumsily before her, fumbling with his unfamiliar clothes, as Jafar settles into a cushioned seat at some distance. The princess meets his eyes for a moment, smiles coyly, then gestures for Aladdin to come to her. He is already half-hard -- despite himself, perhaps? -- as he walks towards her uncertainly.  
  
"Now," she says, "I want you to pleasure me."  
  
"Princess--" he begins, but she silences him with a glare. He swallows, then drops to his knees in front of her, as she spreads her legs slightly for him.  
  
Jafar is close enough to watch as the boy applies his tongue to the task which has been handed to him. He can imagine the tightness of Jasmine's cunt, her sweet taste on the lips or tongue as the boy begins his exploration. Jasmine sighs in pleasure, running one hand through the boy's hair as he licks her, his hands stroking her thighs as his erection bobs in his lap. A pleasured moan leaves her lips, her hand tightening, as his ministrations continue, and despite the attention it has already had today Jafar can feel his cock begging for more.  
  
"Enough," she says finally, breathlessly, and steps away from Aladdin. He looks up in confusion, his lips slick with her, but she only turns and lays herself down upon the bed, a dream among the silken pillows. "You will continue here," she adds, bending one knee up to reveal herself. Her dark curls are already damp with her juices, and as Aladdin kneels before her she spreads her lower lips with her fingers to guide him. A smile again in Jafar's direction. "Won't you come closer, husband?"  
  
He cocks an eyebrow, but she gestures for him with her free hand, and somewhat uncomfortably he rises to his feet, crosses, and joins them on the wide silken sheets. Jasmine settles herself with her head on his shoulder, her body at an angle to his, as Aladdin watches them uncertainly.  
  
"Go on then, boy," she whispers, her voice hot with lust. "I want to see what you can do."  
  
From here he can see more clearly. He can watch as Aladdin's tongue darts between Jasmine's fingers, as he traces circles round her clit that make her growl deep in her throat. Pleasure washes over his face and it is no secret that he is enjoying his new task as he brings his hand up to her, penetrating her with his fingers, pumping them into her until one of her hands tightens on the sheets and the other tightens painfully around Jafar's wrist. His tongue continues its work at her cunt, building in rhythm, his breathing coming faster as Jasmine moans, gasps, then as her back arches and she shudders to climax, the unmistakeable waves of pleasure washing over her.  
  
Jafar eases his erection from his robes, hand sliding along the shaft, as Jasmine does not tell the boy to stop. Again his fingers and his tongue go to work, this time with her flesh already flushed and ready, and she hooks one leg over his shoulder as if to draw him more tightly to her. Aladdin slips his tongue into her, pressing low to explore her, and her nails leave red marks on Jafar's thigh as she shudders.  
  
Finally, it seems, he can stand it no longer, and Aladdin draws himself up and positions himself above Jasmine. His cock, long-hard by now, seems exaggerated by Jasmine's slender hands as she grabs at him, greedily, drawing him down into her. As he slides into her he groans, and Jafar's cock twitches in his hand, then Jasmine slides away from him into the sheets as the boy proceeds to fuck her, animalisticly, gasping and grunting and panting her name over and over. Jasmine in her turn wraps her thighs around him, arching her back to offer her breasts to his waiting mouth, his cock pounding into her as her nails leave lines on him in turn, this time on his shoulders and back. This time when she comes it is with more of a cry, and at the sight of the sweat gleaming on her body and her hair spread around her like a shadow Jafar orgasms as well, his cum splattering across the boy's side in sticky streaks. The boy does not seem to notice, his eyes half-closed and distant, but as Jasmine recovers her breath she smiles and pushes him away. He tumbles aside, coming back to himself, cock still erect.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
There are small drops of semen on her belly, her juices and his slick on her thighs. Her breasts rise and fall with the rhythm of her breath as she puts one hand against his chest and pushes him down against the bed.  
  
"I said you were to pleasure me, street rat," and this time the words leave her lips with just a hint of a sneer. "I never said that you were to pleasure yourself.  
  
"But perhaps..."  
  
She slips her fingers between her legs, and when she holds them up again they are glossy with the taste of her. Jafar watches, captivated, as she reaches over and presses her fingers to the boy's lips; his eyes flutter and one of his hands wraps almost instinctively around his cock.  
  
"Perhaps if you're good enough I'll let you finish." The boy's eyes are still closed as Jasmine twists where she sits to meet Jafar's gaze, her face flushed with lust and success. "What do you think?"  
  
"I think he is yours to use as you wish, my flower," Jafar replies breathlessly. "After all, he belongs to you now."


End file.
